


Happiness is a Warm Smoothskin

by Jesterbelle



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Porn, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesterbelle/pseuds/Jesterbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>F!Lone Wanderer and Charon go into the subway to kill some Raiders. Shameless smut follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness is a Warm Smoothskin

_A thousand times, I’ve told her a thousand times,_ Charon thought, aiming at the raider crouched behind a concrete divider. Ever since his employer had gotten a shock sword from those Outcast dickheads, she’d been charging in like a banshee, lopping off heads left and right. That was fine and well, but made it difficult to provide any form of cover fire, when he was more likely to shoot her than the raider she was grappling with. Cussing under his breath, Charon switched to his combat knife, creeping along the wall until he was close enough to disembowel the hidden raider taking potshots at what he called, “the crazy bitch with the sword.” Once that was taken care of, he cleaned off his knife, crinkling the remnants of his nose. He didn’t mind close combat, but his shotgun was so much more efficient. He leaned against the wall, lazily waiting for her to finish with her raider. It would’ve been easy to slip behind him, break his neck, but he knew she would be irritated, so he let her have her fun.

A primitive smile splayed across her lips as she urged the raider forward. The man’s face was covered with a metal worker’s helmet, shielding it. His chest was bare, and shallow slices laced across it. In his hands were two combat knives, which he used together. Amusedly, Charon noted he had a screwdriver securely taped to one boot. _Whatever you think will help,_ Charon thought, watching them fight. He knew that she was mostly toying with the man; Charon could count three openings at any given moment that she had yet to take advantage of. Besides, if she was in any real trouble, she had a certain ghoul companion that was always willing to step in.

After another 10 minutes of play, the raider’s legs were shaking and his breath was coming out in ragged pants. There was a deep gash that had almost sliced off the raider’s nipple, Charon noticed wincingly. The man had clearly underestimated Charon’s employer, and he was paying for it now. Honestly though, without knowing her, Charon couldn’t blame the man. What she didn’t have in outright strength, she made up for in agility and intelligence. Her movements were quick and calculated, moving in and out of spaces so quickly that it was difficult to pin her down. Charon should know. Ever since she had the bright idea of sparing, he had been a practice dummy on how to defeat larger, stronger opponents.

When Charon heard a gurgling sound, he glanced up from his thoughts to see her sword poking up through the raider’s chin. Pressing the shock button, she laughed as the electrical current caused the dead raider’s face to twist. Charon remained stone-faced, watching.

“What, too much?” she asked, pulling the sword out. “He wasn’t much of a challenge.”

“Obviously,” Charon grunted, slipping his knife out of its sheath. He picked a piece of, raider something, out from its serated teeth.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, her hands sliding up to rest on her hips. The sword still in her hand pulsed.

“If he had any talent, he could’ve killed you,” Charon said, not bothering to look up from his knife.

“Bullshit. I had him.” Her voice was getting louder, and when he finally looked up, she was glaring at him. Sighing, he stood, reaching down to grab another knife. Now that he had two, he stood, knees bent. One of his knives was angled inward, while the other one he held normally, just like the now dead raider.

His employer clicked off the sword, and the pulsing faded. She circled him, before stepping in, swiping at his legs. She changed direction at the last minute, carving upwards at his ribs, and Charon danced back. His employer was so focused on his ribs, that her angle was slightly larger than it needed to be, allowing Charon to slip in after her sword had passed. She froze when his blade touched the curve of her neck. He smirked, and she pushed him away. Squaring back up, she motioned for him to do the same. Charon knew that they would repeat the same maneuver until she could defend against it, and he expected no less. At one time, he had offered suggestions, but now that he knew her better, he kept quiet. She liked figuring it out on her own, trying different strategies, until she found one that worked.

By the time she had managed to tap his ribs twice, both of them were sweating, and they collapsed on the floor where they had fought, trying to catch their breath.

“Good?” she asked. Charon nodded. As much as they sparred, at the end, she always asked him if he thought she did well. He always answered honestly, and the one time he had answered no, she had staggered back to her feet, ready for another match. _She’s unstoppable,_ Charon thought, looking down at the person he called his employer. She got up first, glancing over her shoulder before slipping deeper into the subway.

“Smoothskin,” he warned, getting up to follow her, but she was already out of sight. When he rounded a corner, she launched into him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Her mouth found his, forcing her tongue inside.

“Sarah,” he moaned around her mouth, the sound muffled. She pulled away, perturbed. “Later,” he said. This place wasn’t safe. She pulled away, huffing.

“Fine,” she said, checking her Pip-Boy. She signaled that there were ten more and smiled. “Race ya,” she said, grinning, “and don’t let me win.” As she spoke, she ran forward, edging around the corner.

“Never,” Charon shouted after her, pulling out his shotgun. He had always said that happiness was a warm gun, but this, this was better.

“You know, Moira’s guy could probably kill more than me. Maybe I should trade your contracts out,” his employer said mockingly. Charon growled.

“Moira also doesn’t spear someone that he had already shot,” he said, through gritted teeth, “besides, I doubt he can satisfy your other needs.” He wasn’t really angry like he wouldn’t been if he thought she was serious.

“Hey, a kill is a kill,” she countered, “and I don’t know. I think I could convince him,” she grinned slyly. He gripped his gun a little tighter, not enjoying the mental image that slipped into his head. He never wanted anyone touching her but him. When she reached around, touching his hand, all jealousy faded. “I’m sorry, too far.” After being together so long, they knew what the other was thinking without even looking most of the time. It was just this brush of thought that he had about what she thought or was thinking. He ignored it at first, until he realized how right he was most of the time. She still surprised him occasionally, but it was rare.

They were almost back to Megaton and Charon was thankful. He missed a bed… _and other things that come with a bed._ The rest of their trip passed in silence, except for the sound of her radio playing. Three Dog drove them both crazy, but he played good music, and that was worth its weight in caps out in the Wastes. By the time Megaton came into view, the sun was highest in the sky. As they waited for the gate to open, she glanced up at the sky, “Too early for a nap?” she asked.

“Never,” Charon whispered, running his hand up the back of her thigh. Standing behind her, it was impossible for anyone to see what he had done, but her following tremor was very obvious.

“Not funny,” she muttered, her cheeks turning pink. It was so satisfying to watch. As they passed through Megaton, he looked as she occasionally glanced back at him, quick looks to make sure he was right behind her.  _She's missed me too,_ Charon thought. He made sure that when they were out, they kept a professional attitude. He couldn't let his feelings get his employer killed. So when they were out in the Wastes he did miss her, even when they were a fingers breath apart. When he walked into the house, there was a quiet click of the lock behind him. 

Charon was still setting his bags down, when the first piece of her armor hit the floor. He watched as another piece shortly followed, until her shirt and pants were all that remained. Licking her lips, she scrunched up the bottom of her shirt in her hands, showing her stomach. He went to touch her, but she pushed him back, until he stumbled into one of the chairs in the living room. His hands resting awkwardly on his knees, he watched as her shirt inched higher, until he could barely see the underside of her breasts. Her face disappeared under the shirt as she pulled it over her head. Her pants clung dangerously low, clinging precariously to her hipbones, and one fingerpull would pull them down completely. _She needs to eat more,_ Charon noted. He was always worried about her not eating enough.

Her hair fell down her back and shoulders. It had gotten long, rolling down between her shoulder blades. Charon loved running his hands through it. When her fingers hooked into the hem of her pants, Charon shifted his weight in the chair. He was already hard, and it was difficult not to stand up and finish the job himself; she was moving so slowly. But he held still, letting his smoothskin do what she wanted.

When her pants were around her ankles, she kicked them off and walked towards him. A small patch of curly dark hair lay delicately between her legs, and when she straddled his lap, Charon caught a glimpse of the pink folds beneath. Her chest pressed against his, still armored, and she shivered, from the cold metal he presumed. She slowly unbuckled his bracers, letting them clang to the floor. When she undid his chest piece, she slid her icy hands up his shirt, leaving a cold trail where her skin touched his. Charon used to be self conscious about his face, about his body. He still was most of the time. It was hard to forget completely. But _co_ _rpse, rotter, zombie,_ all of that faded away when she touched him.

When he placed his hand on her thigh and she didn’t stop him, he leaned forward, his other hand weaving into her hair and pulling back, just enough to expose her neck. His mouth found her nipple and bit, causing her to groan. He switched to the other nub, knowing that every bite got her wetter. Charon never brought blood, but the bruises on her chest the day after was enough to make Charon hard again. She complained, but he knew she secretly loved it. It wasn’t too much of a secret, because her face when he had offered to stop gave it all away. When she rocked her hips forward on his thigh, it left a wet trail on the metal. Grabbing her back, he flipped her around until she was in the chair, legs spread. He slipped two fingers into her, making sure she was good and ready. He quickly undid his belt, not even bothering to drop his pants. When he was pressed against her, he hesitated. He always hesitated. After all this time, he still had to know that this was what she really wanted. A quick succession of kisses on his chest was all he needed and he pushed into her, reveling in the delicious moans she made against him.

His pelvis rocked in and out as she lifted up to meet him. The chair made it difficult, and Charon smiled down at her as she struggled to get him deeper inside. Pressing their bodies together, he pulled out before driving back in, biting her neck roughly to keep her in place. She screamed in pleasure, obviously not caring if the other settlers in Megaton heard. He continued thrusting into her, loving the feeling of her skin against his. 

“Fuck me, Charon,” she gasped against his neck, her nails drawing red lines into his back. This would not be the first time they had used the Med Station after having sex. He was getting closer, and abandoned teasing her, instead switching to short, deep strokes. Her thighs were slick with sweat, and she tried to spread them wider, but the arms of the chair blocked her. He grabbed her ankles, pushing them over his shoulders, holding them there with his hands. His smoothskin tightened around him; her hands grabbing wildly for something to hold on to. She settled on the arms of the chair, gripping them as her head was pushed awkwardly into the back of the chair with each thrust. Her constant moaning told Charon that she wasn’t far off and he wasn’t far behind.

When Charon came, he let go of her ankles, crushing her body to his as it rocked through him. He kept thrusting, feeling her tighten around him. He thought she was moaning as well, but is mind was too clouded to make sense of much. When he was finally able to think again, he looked down at the sweaty, beautiful mess before him. Her eyes were half lidded, and he could tell that she was spent. Her legs dangled uselessly off the edge of the chair, and Charon kneeled on the floor for a moment, his legs jellied. Eventually, once his legs were working again, he scooped her up, not even bothering with clothes, and carried her up the stairs. She snuggled into his chest, trailing light kisses and nuzzling against him. When they were almost to the top of the stairs, she opened one eye, before her tongue darted out to lick one of his nipples. He shivered at the contact. When he looked down, she was smiling mischievously, with still only one eye open.

“If you’ve got enough energy to go again, you can walk,” Charon grumbled, halfheartedly. Quickly, the smile was wiped away and her eyes snapped shut, looking for all intents and purposes asleep. Charon smiled, hugging her closer to him as he walked into their room, closing the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you happen to like this, check out my longer work about Charon and F!Lone Wanderer. I based this F!LW off of Sarah from Charred Redemption. Hope you enjoy! Reviews and kudos welcome and appreciated.


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